


So long, farewell

by LateNightConversations



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateNightConversations/pseuds/LateNightConversations
Summary: Drabble. The events leading up to Butch joining Team Rocket





	So long, farewell

They were supposed to meet for dinner at that greasy spoon dinner at 6. Yet the old man couldn't be bothered to show. 

Butch shouldn't have been so surprised, between all the missed varsity baseball games, and even graduation last week, it should have been more than apparent that he wasn't a priority.

No...the priority was the bottom of a bottle, and cracking the seal of the next one. Thank god for that cheery old waitress that comped him a burger and fries out of pity.

The porch light was still burnt out, and it took a few minutes of fumbling in the dark to get his key in the lock.

Tonight would be the night. Dinner had been the last straw, Butch was going to lay it all out, really give him a piece of his mind this time.

The house was unusually quiet, the old man must've passed out early, no matter, Butch would wake him up if he had too.

Heading down the hall, he paused, staring at the photos that hung on the wall. A thin layer of dust covering the memories of a happy family, a close one before illness, and death and alcohol tore it to shreds.

The smiling faces staring back at him might as well have belonged to the cheesy stock photos that came with the frames when they were new.

The memories did nothing more than fuel the anger that had been building up in him for months. He made a sharp turn into the first room on the left, ready to raise hell.

“Get up asshole.”

Silence was the only reply.

Butch took notice of the half empty bottle of booze on the nightstand, he saw red. Lurching forward, he grabbed the shoulder of the sleeping man. 

“I said get the fuck up!”

Upon turning the man, Butch froze. He was met with a cold, glazed over stare, and a pallid face. His mouth went dry, his grip loosened, giving the figure a gentle shake.

“D...dad?”

More silence.

“Come on...this isnt funny...dad, come on...wake up..”

He released his hold, pacing the room, running his hands through his hair. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. 

“Damnit! Get up you piece of shit!”

The slight whirring of the heater was his only answer. He looked back to the bed, swallowing the lump in his throat, his vision slightly blurred.

Turning from the room, Butch headed for his own, cramming whatever possessions he could fit in his baseball duffle bag, before storming back into his father's room.

He set the bag in the doorway, cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing the pack of cigarettes next to the bottle of booze. Three remained.

Slowly he placed one between his lips, and lit it, choking at first. 

“Fuck… what the hell would mom think if she could see you now?”

He took another drag, and reached for the bottle. Taking a long pull he resisted the urge to gag as he swallowed.

“God this shit is awful.”

He took another long drink, despite the burn it went down easier.

“What the hell went so wrong? Was it losing mom? I lost her too you know? You still had me. That wasn't good enough was it?!”

Wiping the scalding tears from his face, Butch dropped the remainder of the cigarette into the bottle of booze. He reached for the pack again, tucking one of the remaining two behind his ear. With a trembling hand he placed the other between his father's lips and slowly rose from his seat.

He rummaged through the nightstand finding what he hoped would be there. A can of lighter fluid. Carefully he doused the bed, until not a drop remained in the container.

“I know you were a good man...at least for most of my life. I know you wouldn't want anyone to see you like this.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the frigid forehead of his father.

“I love you dad. Goodbye.”

He held the lighter to the edge of the sheet, jumping back as it ignited with much more heat than he expected. Grabbing his bag, he ran from the house and into the cold darkness of a fall night.

He ran until he reached a park on the other side of town, a place that would be his home for the next month. A bench for a bed, and shoplifting from the local mini mart for sustenance.

A lunch run at said mini mart would change his life forever. 

Browsing the aisles he watched as another man, the only other patron did the same. Deftly, Butch pocketed a pack of jerky, and made his way to the drinks. 

As the other man paid for his purchases, Butch stuffed a bottle of soda down his pants and booked it for the door. 

Leaning against the side of the building, he uncapped the soda and took a swig.

“Hey kid!”

Shit. The man from the store blocked his only exit. between the street and a dead end alley. 

Butch tensed, reaching his hand into his pocket for the knife he made a habit of carrying.

“I don't want any trouble.”

The man only chuckled.

“I saw what you did in there, real slick.”

Butch’s hand tensed around the knife, ready to pull at a moment's notice.

“Are you a cop or somethin?”

The man shook his head.

“Nah, but let me ask you something. Ever heard of Team Rocket?”


End file.
